


the home we built

by essektheylyss (midnightindigo)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: (abusive parents is mentioned), (more of just the comfort part if we're being honest, Abusive Parents, Alcohol, Hurt/Comfort, Intoxication, Multi, Post-Episode 92, episode 92 spoilers, just a lot of cuddling, raise your hand if you've been personally victimized by matthew mercer's acting, teen rating is only for Beau canon-typical swearing soooo, the episode was the hurt part)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:13:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22385443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightindigo/pseuds/essektheylyss
Summary: This is home, not the cold, beautiful building you've just left.This is home: the women you love, who are willing to carry you to bed, to cradle you to sleep.
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett/Yasha
Comments: 6
Kudos: 100





	the home we built

**Author's Note:**

> How many one-shots will I write off of this episode? At least one more!!!
> 
> I do not edit and you can't make me, here, have a fic!

The inn they find is… well, it feels as kitschy as home would, with the baubles on the mantle and the weird little soaps and just… everything that feels wrong about that house, that she still calls _home_ even though it’s not.

It’s not home, but sometimes habits won’t die.

This is home: three women getting ready for bed in a crowded inn room. This is home: drinking too much with her friends, _her family_ , at the bar when they get back, buying her round after round until Jester and Yasha stumble up the stairs with her arms around their shoulders, laughing, doing bad imitations of her dad and trying their hardest to make her laugh even as the wallpaper of this stupid fucking inn blurs and their door closes behind her and they collapse on the one bed in the room, makeup still heavy and cakey after the rain, and she doesn’t bother wiping it off as she fumbles for the covers of the bed and climbs underneath.

Jester is sitting at the desk in their room with her journal, sketching furiously, saying something that Beau is too drunk to process, but when she turns around she’s drawn a bad approximation of Thoreau Lionett as a demon, and Yasha laughs out loud, even though Yasha is still mourning the time she lost to a devil. But they’re different, right? She can’t remember now, the room spinning as it is, and she doesn’t remember when she got so unused to wine that the red downstairs is affecting her so badly, but then—maybe they bought her more rounds than she can remember.

This is home, she thinks, and lounges back against Yasha’s shoulder, and she slurs her words as she asks again how she got so ripped overnight, but Yasha doesn’t have an answer.

This is home, she thinks, as Jester puts her journal and her paints away and crawls under the covers next to them, warm and soft and cuddly as she closes her eyes against the pillow, and the three of them shouldn’t fit in the little double bed, but Jester and Yasha press up against her, Yasha's arm over her shoulders and Jester’s hands cradled around hers, their foreheads pressed together.

This is home, she thinks, their limbs entwined as they drunkenly fall asleep, and she remembers the laughter, the kind she never got at home, the laughter that’s a little loopy from exhaustion and a little unhinged from intoxication, and it feels warm, like a light, like… like that mote they used to get from that fucking beacon Caleb just handed to the Dynasty—her rational self knows it was the right move, but her rational self is tucked away under layers of alcohol and rage, and she has to push it away before she stumbles to Caleb’s room and asks him what the fuck was going through his head that day. 

She wouldn’t move though, not in this place, with Jester’s forehead pressed to hers and Yasha’s arms around her shoulders, and she’s so tired, soooo tired, and it’s almost unbelievable that they were at her _house_ hours ago, that after all these years she went home. She came home. Why the fuck did she do that?

And Jester can… can try and save her soul all she wants, urge her to forgive, or some shit, but really all Beau wants is the grace that these two women give her, every time they cast their blessing and pull her back from the brink of death. It’s the kind of grace that she would never have been afforded in the Lionett household, that saves her whether she thinks she deserves it or not. And maybe she doesn’t. Maybe she’s just one girl, trying to do _something_ , in a world that doesn’t care if she lives or dies.

Just like her parents, who couldn’t be bothered with whether she made it through monk training, probably didn’t even know when she ran away. 

But these women, who are lying on either side of her as she drifts to sleep, expensive red wine still buzzing in her head, they give a fuck whether she lives or dies. Her family cares if she makes it out alive. That isn’t something she thought she could say about family when she was nineteen—didn’t think she was worthy of the kind of love that cared, didn’t think she was capable of it either.

But as both of their breathing elongates beneath the heavy rainfall and spring storms of Kamordah, she’s perfectly capable, now that someone has modeled it for her. It wasn’t her fault that she had never learned in captivity, but now that she’s free she can understand what love is.

It is home, asleep in an inn, between two girls who care enough to drag her back from death day after day, even when she dives into danger, even when she is the cause of all of her problems. 

It is home, among her family, her chosen family, who buy her drinks until she can’t remember her father’s name.

It is home, as warm as the sunlight, even on a stormy night. 

It is home, the one she has made for herself, that others have refused to abandon when she’s made it tough to love her.

It is home. Her home.

**Author's Note:**

> That gutted me and all I wanted was for Beau to maintain the hugs and the alcohol cuz she needs and deserves it.


End file.
